109 north main street

Hi everyone,
We’re Ryan and Claire from [Huxley & Hiro Books](https://www.huxleyandhiro.com/) down on Market Street in Wilmington. As you may have heard, we are in the process of opening an independent bookstore later this year (Oct/Nov). However, we will be at our store with a small preview sale and fundraiser this Friday June 2nd as part of the [Ladybug Music Festival](https://www.theladybugfestival.com/) and to honor our mission of giving back to the community.
Where? 419 N. Market Street, Wilmington, DE
When? Friday June 2nd from 4pm until 8pm
What? Preview sale and charity fundraiser with books, enamel pins, bags, and stickers. $1 from the proceeds of each Huxley or Hiro sticker will go to a nearby animal charity. Shibes vs Maine Coons, who will win?
We hope you will come say hi and check out the Ladybug Festival. The headliners [Adia Victoria](https://adiavictoria.fancollab.com/) (gothic blues) and our very own [Nitro Nitra](https://nitronitra.com/home) are fantastic, and there will be a DJ, multiple stages, food carts, and market stalls. Best of all? The festival is free!
We look forward to seeing you there!
Cheers, Claire and Ryan
PS: We would be most grateful for your follow on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/huxandhiro/) or [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/HuxleyandHiro/), and for sharing our presence with your friends!

Hi everyone,
We’re Ryan and Claire from [Huxley & Hiro Books](https://www.huxleyandhiro.com/) down on Market Street in Wilmington. As you may have heard, we are in the process of opening an independent bookstore later this year (Oct/Nov). However, we will be at our store with a small preview sale and fundraiser this Friday June 2nd as part of the [Ladybug Music Festival]( https://www.theladybugfestival.com/) and to honor our mission of giving back to the community.
Where? 419 N. Market Street, Wilmington, DE
When? Friday June 2nd from 4pm until 8pm
What? Preview sale and charity fundraiser with books, enamel pins, bags, and stickers. $1 from the proceeds of each Huxley or Hiro sticker will go to a nearby animal charity. Shibes vs Maine Coons, who will win?
We hope you will come say hi and check out the Ladybug Festival. The headliners [Adia Victoria]( https://adiavictoria.fancollab.com/) (gothic blues) and our very own [Nitro Nitra]( https://nitronitra.com/home) are fantastic, and there will be a DJ, multiple stages, food carts, and market stalls. Best of all? The festival is free!
We look forward to seeing you there!
Cheers, Claire and Ryan
PS: We would be most grateful for your follow on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/huxandhiro/) or [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/HuxleyandHiro/), and for sharing our presence with your friends!

I'm a 34 year old carpenter from the US who has been traveling the world and working for a few years. Looking for someone who might be interested in traveling together. I thought it would be easier once I started traveling to find someone to join along but people have their own lives and the couple times I met someone on the road that I was genuinely interested in and attracted to and we started dating, they always had some other plans which prevented traveling together long term.
So let me know where you'd go and what you'd want to do if you had a year to travel.
As for me, my main travel interests are hiking, food, photography and riding motorcycles. I'd be really interested to do a tour of Japan from North to South focused on exploring regional food. I'd also like to go hiking around south eastern Europe, hang out in Prague and Budapest, and possibly check out the caucuses. I'm very interested in starting a business around travel in the future, maybe a high end hostel or a coworking space.
As for someone else, the traits I most value are open mindedness, kindness, creativity, intelligence and passion for the things they get involved with.
Not posting a picture on here but happy to trade facebook with plenty of pictures. I'm 6 even 200 , in good shape but don't have an amazing gym body or anything like that. Not a model but most of the girls I have dated have been pretty attractive so I don't think I'm hideous.
Obviously I'd want to spend some time talking / video chatting and making sure we both felt like it was good match before deciding to make any travel plans but if we talked a few times and it felt potentially good, I'd be up for whatever. https://imgur.com/a/CUYEjNG

The three characters Sansa, The Hound, and Young Griff are fated to come back to King's Landing due to Cersei's downfall in TWOW. Let me break it down. To start, Ser Shadrich was introduced in the beginning of AFFC talking to Brienne:

"I did fight upon the Blackwater, but on the losing side. My ransom ruined me. You know who Varys is, I trust? The eunuch has offered a plump bag of gold for this girl you've never heard of. I am not a greedy man. If some oversized wench would help me find this naughty child, I would split the Spider's coin with her."
"I thought you were in this merchant's hire."
"Only so far as Duskendale. Hibald is as niggardly as he is fearful. And he is very fearful. What say you, wench?"
"I know no Sansa Stark," she insisted. "I am searching for my sister, a highborn girl . . ."
- A Feast for Crows - Brienne I

He claims to be looking for Sansa, hired by Varys. Later, he appears at the end of the book in Sansa's chapter, seeming to be there searching for her:

"I would do the same if she were my daughter," said the last knight, a short, wiry man with a wry smile, pointed nose, and bristly orange hair. "Particularly around louts like us." Alayne laughed. "Are you louts?" she said, teasing. "Why, I took the three of you for gallant knights." "Knights they are," said Petyr. "Their gallantry has yet to be demonstrated, but we may hope. Allow me to present Ser Byron, Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich. Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter . . . with whom I must needs confer, if you will be so good as to excuse us." - A Feast for Crows, Alayne II

He enters Littlefinger's service, but this sneaky mouse later hints at some possible true intentions, mentioning "stumbling on a bag of dragons", which would be Sansa:

Just thinking about it was enough to make her head spin. Alayne turned abruptly from the yard...and bumped into a short, sharp-faced man with a brush of orange hair who had come up behind her. His hand shot out and caught her arm before she could fall. "My lady. My pardons if I took you unawares." "The fault was mine. I did not see you standing there." "We mice are quiet creatures." Ser Shadrich was so short that he might have been taken for a squire, but his face belonged to a much older man. She saw long leagues in the wrinkles at the corner of his mouth, old battles in the scar beneath his ear, and a hardness behind the eyes that no boy would ever have. This was a man grown. Even Randa overtopped him, though. "Will you be seeking wings?" the Royce girl said. "A mouse with wings would be a silly sight." "Perhaps you will try the melee instead?" Alayne suggested. The melee was an afterthought, a sop for all the brothers, uncles, fathers, and friends who had accompanied the competitors to the Gates of the Moon to see them win their silver wings, but there would be prizes for the champions, and a chance to win ransoms. "A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that's not likely, is it?" "I suppose not. But now you must excuse us, ser, we need to find my lord father. " - The Winds of Winter, Alayne I

Now, there are many possibilities about this man's true intentions and the outcome, but my bet is that he succeeds in bringing Sansa to King's Landing where Varys will pay him handsomely. The reason is because she must be betrothed to Aegon.
In the Hedge Knight, Dunk and Egg go to a tourney held at Ashford to celebrate Lord Ashford's daughter's 13th name-day. Lady Ashford has 5 champions fighting on her behalf and anyone who defeats a champion ends up replacing their opponent as a champion for Lady Ashford. In the end, the 5 champions who end up defending Lady Ashford are:

1. Lyonel Baratheon
2. Leo Tyrell
3. Tybolt Lannister
4. Humfrey Hardyng
5. Prince Valarr Targaryen

When you look at the names of the champions' families and the fact they fight for a 13 year old maid, especially with the family Hardyng, we find out that they correspond strongly with Sansa's suitors in A Song of Ice and Fire.

1. Sansa's first betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon
2. Sansa's then planned to be wed to Willas Tyrell
3. Sansa's married to Tyrion Lannister
4. Sansa's now being betrothed to Harry Hardyng

But, there's one suitor that we have yet to see, the Targaryen suitor (foreshadowed by Valarr Targaryen). Sansa is not marrying Jon Snow or Daenerys. She is going to be betrothed to "Aegon VI Targaryen". Whether he is a real Targaryen or not does not matter. It's the name he will go by, like Joffrey went by Baratheon even though he was not true Baratheon. It will have Sansa playing a large role in Westerosi Politics in the upcoming books.
Now last time we left Cersei, she was planning to use Robert Strong in her trial by combat against the Faith. Obviously the undead Mountain will slaughter however the Faith but in front of him. This is a prime opportunity to see what Robert Strong is capable of as an undead beast, and his true identity will probably be revealed by knocking off his helm, proving publicly to House Martell that the Lannisters are liars. Word will spread across Westeros. For those that believe the gravedigger theory, this will be a prime motivation for The Hound to come out of hiding at the Quiet Isle and go south to face his brother. He has to return to King's Landing and reunite with Sansa to resolve the "unkiss" that George confirmed would later be explored where Sansa thinks the Hound kissed her when he did not.
In the ADWD epilogue Mace is adamant that he will not march on Aegon until after the trials, and in the released TWOW chapters of Arianne I and II and Mercy I, we learn that the queen is alive and still ruling and Mace is marching towards Storm's End, so this pretty much confirms that both Margaeray and Cersei survive past the trials. Cersei is set to be reunited with Myrcella, accompanied by the sand snakes Nymeria and Tyene, which will be a very important plot point.
My guess is either Mace will be defeated or he will actually align with Aegon against Cersei, who has made herself an enemy to the Tyrells at this point. I lean towards the latter, as this benefits the Tyrells who can clearly see Cersei is gonna lead to their downfall, but either way Aegon will be victorious. Arianne will choose to believe Aegon is real and form an alliance. Maybe she recognizes some of Elia's features in him. Doran will receive Quentyn's body and immediately be anti-Daenerys, and with word from Arianne confirming Aegon, he will send troops to support him. Aegon will choose not to marry Arianne because the Martells will already be in their pocket after they believe Aegon is Elia's child. They will start to plot an invasion on King's Landing.

Cersei: When will I wed prince? Maggy: Never. You will wed the king. Cersei: I will be queen, though? Maggy: Aye. Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.
Cersei: Will the king and I have children? Maggy: Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds, she said. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.

My guess is that what happened in the show will be reversed. Tommen will be poisoned by the sand snakes, and a depressed Myrcella will rule in his stead, since Cersei's prophecy stated all her children must wear crowns and then die. Qyburn will definitely use his necromancy to work on Tommen. However, I believe Cersei will have Trystane killed as revenge for poisoning Tommen, and this will cause Myrcella to reach her breaking point and kill herself out of grief. If she jumps out of a window and gets smashed to a pulp, then that will prevent her from being revived as an undead. Cersei will then be crowned queen, having lost everything.
While all this is happening, I believe Sansa will arrive to Aegon. Sansa will finally be with a prince that is good natured, something she always wanted. They will marry, and Aegon will invade King's Landing easily, maybe even have the gates opened for him. Sansa will be the queen, younger and more beautiful, to cast Cersei down and take all that she holds dear, which is much more fitting and satisfying than Arianne, Margaery, or Daenerys since Cersei and Sansa had a complex relationship since the first book, and this would be a fitting arc to their story. I think Tommen will choke the life from Cersei. He is the valonqar, since Maggy was answering the question of whether Cersei will have children, and the valonqar of her children is Tommen. Jaime would be random and make no sense, despite the fans wanting it. Now Sansa is ruling and making decisions, and she will be an important role in the coming second Dance with Dragons, making the war much more complex, with a resurrected Jon claiming to be a Targaryen heir with Asha/Theon/Rickon/Bran/Arya? and the North on his side, Daenerys/Tyrion/Victarion invading, and Aegon/Sansa/Arianne/Tarly/Tyrells ruling in King's Landing, it's gonna be a shitshow of complex character dynamics, which is what George always wanted to do.
In the original 1993 outline by George, he states:

Each of the contending families will learn it has a member of dubious loyalty in its midst. Sansa Stark, wed to Joffrey Baratheon, will bear him a son, the heir to the throne, and when the crunch comes she will choose her husband and child over her parents and siblings, a choice she will later bitterly rue. Tyrion Lannister, meanwhile, will befriend both Sansa and her sister Arya, while growing more and more disenchanted with his own family.

Now obviously George has differed significantly from his original outline as he writes, but the seeds of the broad narrative are there. Sansa was always conceived as the Stark that would be positioned on the opposite side of her family and have conflicted loyalties. This played out a bit in AGOT, ACOK, and ASOS, but it will play out in an even more active way if she marries/betroths Aegon. It makes sense that Sansa was supposed to get back to King's Landing for her main storyline before George scrapped the 5-year gap.
tldr: Sansa marries Aegon and is the one to take everything Cersei holds dear.

My partner [18] and I [17] are looking to move into an apartment in North Carolina, US. I’m the main one looking for places and I’ve saved up enough money over the years to rent a small apartment. I’m not looking to sign a lease or contract or anything like that using his name. I’m only applying and seeing if there’s any availability for apartments. I’m using his name instead of mine because mine is a very clearly “non-American” name and I was having no luck getting responses. However, after switching to his “American-sounding” name I got an unbelievable amount of replies. I’m not looking to debate on why this is happening or anything like that. I just want to know if I apply to houses using his name, is that illegal? He’s going to be the one communicating and talking with them afterward and he’s consented to me doing this. Thank you in advance :)

My husband (29M) used to work at a luxury apt building. Within a year he became one of the most senior and valued workers. While I (28F) was initially supportive of his work, after a while I noticed that the management was terrible. Partly because of this, he was prioritizing work over our life together. After months of arguing, I decided to try a “if you can’t beat them, join them” approach. Eg. we moved to a building right across the street from his workplace. Also, when he asked me if I would work there on the weekends, I agreed. Even though I already had a full time job and a side gig, we were planning an expensive vacation so extra money was good. Mainly though I wanted to help him out and maybe spend more time together.
Management at this job was even worse than expected, especially on weekends. If I had questions, I was expected to just ask my husband, even though he’s not my manager and not on the schedule. I tried to avoid bothering him at first, but there were often situations where I had no other resources. I would apologize, but he typically never minded.
Labor Day was going to be the first day off I had after working 8hrs/day every day for over a month. I was really looking forward to it, but then my husband fell sick. I offered to cover his shift.
At work, the building floods. Multiple floors affected, multiple residents calling about leaks in their ceiling. There’s no other staff on site. Maintenance is gone for the long weekend. Management is completely unhelpful. I called my husband 20+ times - no response. In the midst of this, an angry man came up to the desk and yelled at me about how a car has definitely been in the 10 min parking for longer than 10 min and I needed to do my job better in monitoring it.
That broke me. I left and went back home, where my husband was still sleeping. The situation brought back unpleasant memories of incidents in the past when I’d turned to him for help and he had not helped. I refused to go back to work and he ended up going in to finish the shift despite being sick.
I thought the incident was closed, until today. He’s been feeling sick again, and I said to him something like “oh, take the day off, you’re not feeling well.” Out of the blue, he scoffs and goes “at least NOW you want me to take the day off”
At first I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he pointed out how I “made” him go into work on Labor Day when he was sick. He said I could just have kept doing my shift, stood there and said nothing. He told me I should have just ignored the guy who yelled at me. I found this very hypocritical because he recently quit that same job because a new manager had unjustly yelled at him. The conversation devolved from there. There’s more but post limit.
Now I’m wondering - was I really the asshole for “making” him go into work? And if I was, what should I have done instead?

34 [M4F] West coast the best coast
I'm a 34 year old carpenter from the US who has been traveling the world and working for a few years. Looking for someone who might be interested in traveling together. I thought it would be easier once I started traveling to find someone to join along but people have their own lives and the couple times I met someone on the road that I was genuinely interested in and attracted to and we started dating, they always had some other plans which prevented traveling together long term.
So let me know where you'd go and what you'd want to do if you had a year to travel.
As for me, my main travel interests are hiking, food, photography and riding motorcycles. I'd be really interested to do a tour of Japan from North to South focused on exploring regional food. I'd also like to go hiking around south eastern Europe, hang out in Prague and Budapest, and possibly check out the caucuses. I'm very interested in starting a business around travel in the future, maybe a high end hostel or a coworking space.
As for someone else, the traits I most value are open mindedness, kindness, creativity, intelligence and passion for the things they get involved with.
Not posting a picture on here but happy to trade facebook with plenty of pictures. I'm 6 even 200 , in good shape but don't have an amazing gym body or anything like that. Not a model but most of the girls I have dated have been pretty attractive so I don't think I'm hideous.
Obviously I'd want to spend some time talking / video chatting and making sure we both felt like it was good match before deciding to make any travel plans but if we talked a few times and it felt potentially good, I'd be up for whatever. https://imgur.com/a/CUYEjNG

We moved into our house a few years ago and the previous owners planted a paper birch in the front garden. We love the tree but I have a few concerns, mainly that it’s close to the house and it’s right next to the water main of the house. I’m worried about eventual root issues and it growing and leaning towards the house.
During the winter I noticed the top of the tree leaning north eastward with the wind direction we get here. The top is very flexible and now that the leaves have come in the lean is even more pronounced - it’s almost bent right over.
My questions are is this lean a problem with such a young tree? Is there a way to fit or will it correct as it grows? Also while I have you all here maybe you can help alleviate my paranoia of the tree being too close to the house and the water main or should I have concerns…
We would love to keep it as it’s my favourite type of tree but wanted to check with this community for any advice.
Thanks for any help you can provide! I’m new to this.

UWM has a little known, yet amazing surplus store off on North 1st Street off Capitol, selling ex-university furniture, scientific equipment computers and other large goods. Is there a Marquette and MSOE equivalent to this?

Hey there, I’m searching for someone who matches with me on a fair amount of items from my list of fandoms. I have anime/games I’m looking for people to strike RPs with. I’m attempting to find someone willing to play CANON characters. OC’s are allowed, but heavy discussion about them must take place beforehand. I don’t mind OC’s, but my main goal is to attempt to find someone willing to play canon character. If you can play male, that’s fine - But I'm mostly seeking people that can play Female characters regardless of IRL gender. The more canon characters you can play, the better. If we match on more than 3, please shoot me a DM. I primarily RP over discord, and write at least a paragraph per reply, but can stretch to 2-3 paragraphs or more. Seeking someone who can do the same. While these are aimed to be romances, I also am very plot-heavy and enjoy a variety of AU's and genres. I hope to find someone fairly active and seeking to write mostly romantic themes among other genres. At the moment, very much interested In finding fellow writers that have read Tokyo Ghoul and Tokyo Ghoul:re Thanks for reading!
*Anime:*
​
* Watamote. (AU/Canon.)
* My Hero Academia. (AU/Canon.)
* Kill La Kill. (AU/Canon.)
* Konosuba. (AU/Canon.)
* Darling in the Franxx. (AU/Canon.)
* Dragon Maid. (AU/Canon.)
* Goblin Slayer.
* Re:Zero. (AU/Canon.)
* Tanya The Evil. (AU/Canon.)
* Overlord. (AU/Canon.)
* Tokyo Ghoul/Tokyo Ghoul:re
* Code Geass
* Akame Ga Kill
* Chainsaw Man
​
*Games:*
​
* Borderlands 2.
* Mass Effect. (AU/Canon.)
* Dark Souls III. (AU.)
* Fallout 4.
* Destiny 2.
* Undertale. (AU.)
* Deltarune. (AU/Canon.)
* Bully. (AU.)
* Persona 4
* Overwatch
* Street Fighter V
* League of Legends
* FFXIV
​
*Movies/Shows.*
​
* Spider Verse.
* MCU.
* Steven Universe.
* Adventure Time.
* ATLA
* Game of Thrones
* Star Wars
* Star Vs Forces of Evil

First Previous Next
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
— Langston Hughes
Catalogue Description
Self-Monitoring Behavioural Management Report: Casimir Szymański, Scazim Institute of Science and Technology - English Translation
Date:
15 Summer-2 3429 (Standard Parimthian Calendar)
November 23rd, 2162 (Gregorian Calendar)
Held by:
The UK National Archives, Kew
Legal status:
Public Record(s)
My father worshipped a fabricated, pagan prophet.
The Senghavi of the Parimthian Empire are principally joined under the ditheistic religion called Siedi, which I do not subscribe to. Of course, the Senghavi's literature, art, and faith flooded the whole of Earth upon their arrival a century ago. From this ocean of civilised culture, my degenerate species drew a sample, claimed it as our own, and polluted it with a distorted, appropriated, dumbed-down doctrine.
The central figure in this corrupt sample of Siedi was a man whom my father called Jesus Christ. He was said to have offered himself as a sacrifice that could be made to a single God. It was a final sacrifice, one beyond lambs or cattle or people. One that would atone for humanity's sins, so that we could have the free choice between the eternal presence of God and the eternal absence of "Him."
My father dressed himself in black, with a standing collar whose white fabric was exposed at the centre. That much, I could recall. He preached to hopeful humans in what was called a church, though I did not know what he was preaching. At the very least, my childhood is fuzzy in that regard.
The pain that throbbed through my skull, after the blonde savage had slammed my head against the ridges of the airlock, faded into the background. I could not focus; perhaps, I thought, one of their improvised explosives had gone off by accident. There was blue Senghavi blood staining my dress shirt. The rush of air escaping into vacuum pierced my ears.
Perhaps it was thirst of water, which binds most sapient beings—the Sons of Liberty had reached an agreement with the Colonial Defence Force to allow spacecraft delivering food, water, and medical aid, only to unleash the anti-collision lasers of this cursed spaceliner upon those very ships.
Or perhaps it was the explosion, as I initially thought, an inadvertent complication which had wrought injury and death over my countrymen, and which had forced the terrorist savages to attempt to patch up the many hull breaches left by debris.
Or perhaps it was simply the stress of betraying, in my desperate efforts to save everyone from this senseless violence, the greatest secret of the Senghavi Terrans: our antimatter research. Word of it had likely been forwarded already, hundreds of light-years away, to that pink-hued marble which was Parimth itself.
Or perhaps it was all three; thirst, explosion, and stress. In any case, my mind shut it all out, and something lost from my childhood flashed before me:
We're standing on the cracked street of the Vennec Human Reservation. In the distance, the Senghavi's white, glassy spires reach above the clouds, their accents of luminescence dim in the broad daylight.
I hold a ball in my palm. It's wrapped in white leather held together with red stitching. I toss it to Dad.
Instead of his clerical uniform, he wears the normal "T-shirt" and "cargo shorts." Along with the clerical getup, they are just two of the many sorts of clothing which the Senghavi have invented for humanity. I toss the ball to Dad, and he swings a primitive wooden bat.
The ball goes soaring, further than he meant to. He jogs down the road to retrieve it, then gives me the wooden bat. The breeze ruffles his hair just as he ruffles mine with his hand.
"Now, you try," he says. "It's just practice, that's all."
For some reason, he lifts one leg in the air, then pitches the ball to me. I swing. The impact of the ball shakes through the wood, and it goes careening off to the left.
"I did it!" I yell. "But it went out of bounds."
"Heyyyy, that's not bad," Dad says with a reassuring voice. "Good job, just try to go a little more right next time."
Mom comes out onto the front porch, the breeze ruffling her dress as she waves to Dad. "Dinner's ready, and Mom's pie is... almost ready."
I stare blankly at her until I realise that she is talking about her Mom, Grandma, who is the best at making pumpkin pie.
"The pie!" I shout, running and jumping to the front door. "I totally forgot about that!"
I am ready to speed my way through dinner just so I can get to dessert, but Dad stops me before my first bite.
Of course, I think. We need to say grace. Me, Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa all hold hands, thanking God for our food, and then dig in. But Mom and Dad just talk about work, and I am too focused on finishing my food quickly to pitch in.
Finally—Grandma's pie!
When you bite into the soft, smooth filling, you can instantly tell it's been made with fresh pumpkins, not the boring canned ones. The taste of cinnamon and spice is balanced out perfectly with the coolness of the whipped cream.
The flavour spreads through my tongue and nostrils, filling my entire brain with a feeling of amazing-ness. If I wrote the Simple-Speak Dictionary for Senghavi Terrans, I'd put Grandma's pie next to the translation of "perfection."
I should save a slice, I think, for the Senghavi kid.
Even though it's only been a week since I met him through the playground fence, we already told each other where we live, and I want to get to know him more. He doesn't live on the Vennec Human Reservation, but his house is just a bike-ride away in Fellye Neighborhood.
I wonder if anyone's ever given pumpkin pie to an alien before. Even though humans only invented it fifty years ago, it makes me feel proud of my species!
When Mom tucks me into bed, kissing my forehead, I tell her what I'm going to do.
"Oh, you wild thing," she coos. "You're so much like your father. And you have his eyes, you know? Just stay safe."
"Don't worry, I'll do my best."
>! "Good night. I love you." !<
>! "I love you, too, Mom," I say. I hug her tightly from my bed, and a warm, fuzzy feeling blossoms within me. I can hardly fall asleep in my excitement. !<
Luckily, Fellye Neighborhood doesn't take apartheid that seriously, and I don't think anybody cares about an eight year-old human riding his bicycle around the gates.
Next evening, I do just that, peddling out of the Reservation's entrance into the violet dusk. When I get to Mensim's address, I ring the hi-tech front doorbell, and a really tall Senghavi shows up.
"Oh, dear," she says in Parimthian. "A barbarian hatchling—by what name do you go?"
"I'm Casimir," I say nervously. I don't pay that much attention in school, but I know just enough Parimthian to talk to the Senghavi woman. "Are you Mrs. Munghazi? Is Mensim fe Munghazi here? I got two slices of pie. You can have one, too!"
She looks at me suspiciously, antennae twitching. "That would be Teacher Munghazi to you; I know not why you natives invented these odd 'Mister' and 'Missis' honorifics. Hold on—Ghanvati! A native hatchling stands at our doorstep!"
Ghanvati must be Mensim's dad. I wonder where his other moms are; only one has shown up to the door. Ghanvati shows up with two of them—they are both shorter and daintier than Teacher Munghazi, their raptorial forelimbs folded shyly against their bodies. In front of the group of three is Mensim, and I involuntarily gasped with excitement.
"Mensim!"
"This is your new companion?" Ghanvati asks Mensim.
Mensim's papery forewings flicker with affirmation. "I met him at school."
"What, pray tell, is the point of apartheid if it does not actually keep natives away from Senghavi?" whines one of Ghanvati's wives.
Ghanvati's antennae droop as if to say "I don't know," while Mensim lifts my arms, inspecting me like I am a test animal in a mad scientist's laboratory.
"How do you guys not get cut all the time?" he asks, tracing his tarsal hairs over my bare skin. "You're so fleshy!"
"I do get cut all the time," I giggled. "We just use band-aids. Oh, do you wanna eat a pumpkin pie?"
It turned out that pumpkin pie is bad for alien stomachs. Mensim had to go to the bathroom for a long time, and three of his moms got mad at me.
When I got back, Dad and Mom were arguing. I snuck close to the back porch, making sure they couldn't hear me.
"Yes, they leave some people alone," Dad said. "Obviously, they can't spy on every single human who believes in human religions. But Katarzyna, they still need people to make an example out of, and I don't want to be that person!"
"Casimir is a responsible kid," Mom retorts. "I told him he can't tell anyone what you do, and he listens to me."
"He's eight years old. You can't just let him wander around aliens with a secret that could have me killed! Or have you killed!"
Mom cups Dad's cheek and looks him in the eye. She's a lot shorter than him. "Look, love. You're a great father, and I think it's amazing that you spend time with him. But you're the only person he talks to. You know just as well as I do that he needs to talk to other kids! It's not healthy; even Teacher Perevvoxath agreed. And now he finally has a friend."
Dad sighs, running his hands through his black hair. My hair. "You really think aliens are a substitute for human interaction?"
>! "I think every human needs a person they can talk to, and Casimir found one. If you really care about him, stop preaching for a while! Your church isn't gonna die without you. It'll be okay." !<
The next day, I visit Mensim's house after school again. And the next day after that, and the next after that. His dad Ghanvati is formally named Engineer Munghazi. I am to call his moms Teacher Munghazi, Teacher Munghazi, Teacher Munghazi, Accountant Munghazi, Priestess Munghazi, Doctor Munghazi, and Maidservant Munghazi.
A couple weeks later, Mensim and I are lounging together on his couch, watching a Parimthian war movie. The main characters are fighting against the evil forces of the Imperium of Orion. Under his head capsule, Mensim is munching something called Synth-Fruit, which is imported from a faraway planet called Mryi. I eat Pop-Tarts, which I'm pretty sure are toxic to him.
"Come on, just give me one," Mensim exclaims, reaching over to steal the sweet snacks from me. "It can't be that bad!"
I lift the Pop-Tarts away from him, laughing. "Stoppit, you're attacking me! Pay attention to the movie, or I'm gonna shoot you!"
"But I just want one..."
"It's gonna poison you, and you're gonna get your weird alien throw-up all over me!"
Priestess Munghazi, the oldest of his moms, bursts into the living room, her jewellery clinking over her clerical cape.
"Your sister conveyed to me quite the disturbing piece of news, Mensim," Priestess Munghazi cries. "The father of Casimir is a priest of a most barbarous and evil perversion of the Siedi faith. Ghanvati and I spoke, and we agreed that you are not to consort with this primitive, pagan savage any longer."
I drop my crumbly Pop-Tart on the couch, confused at the sudden order.
"But Priestess Munghazi, I'm not dangerous or evil. I'm just a kid."
"Nonsense! You are dangerous; your father is a barbarian worshipper of this evil, primate paganism that is called Christianity, and a most woeful effect is begot that even self-respecting Senghavi have 'gone native,' as they say. Mensim, if you continue to consort with this native spawn, I will be impelled to inform the Siedi Court, and they may by chance see to it that he is executed!"
"W-Wait!" Mensim says, holding up the remote to pause our movie. He gets off of me, suddenly losing interest in my Pop-Tart, his vestigial forewings rising with concern. "Please, Mother. I promise he won't be any trouble."
My blood runs cold. Dad, executed? Just because what he believes in isn't "civilised" enough? Actually, I thought that Mom told him to stop preaching for a while.
Mensim scrambles to *his father's sleeping quarters, and I trail frantically after him.*
"Father," Mensim says. "Is Casimir's father's job so ghastly that he should be executed by the Siedi Court?"
"We can't just let the natives spread the same barbarous religions that they used to kill each other," Ghanvati replies, his secondary arms clasped together. "It's a threat to safe, moral society. Priestess Munghazi told me his father spreads evil and paganism. I have no reason not to trust the oldest of your mothers."
"But Casimir's my best friend! If you tell the Siedi Court about his father, I'll... I'll run away! I'll hate you!"
Distressed vibrations emanate through the floor beneath my feet; Mensim's antennae and papery forewings and hindwings go limp. Something like lilies and the earthy scent of rain fills the air.
"My dearest Mensim," Ghanvati says softly, dipping his head capsule with compassion. "I will hold off, just this once. It would be apt of you not to cause me to reconsider."
"T-thank you, Engineer Munghazi," I say, wiping my own tears. "My dad's not a bad person, I promise."
After confronting his dad, Mensim and I keep on watching movies and playing digital games. He always wins when we wrestle, but I still haven't given up (even though Priestess Munghazi always tells us to stop roughhousing).
I even bring my Lego pieces to his house. He doesn't know what Legos are, but later, in his sleeping quarters, we build together. He makes a cool-looking spaceship that he calls a "negative energy generator."
"Hey, you took all the cool black and grey pieces," I complain. "Now I can't finish my army base!"
"This is cooler than your army base," Mensim says proudly. "Father used to work in one. It uses the superposition of squeezed vacuum states to produce a field of negative energy density."
"I have no idea what that means, but that sounds really smart."
"No kidding! It's how people make wormholes and fly all the way to other stars."
"Well, my army guys could beat your negative energy-thingy. They have machine guns."
"My guys could just fly a [~million billion trillion kilometres] away, and yours can't do anything about it!"
"Then your guys are wimps. But my guys aren't. Because they're the Army!"
>! We also explore the pine forest in his backyard. Within just two more weeks, we have uncovered all sorts of interesting things, like a piece of a real human skull. One time, we found a human foot sculpted and smoothed out of stone—who would make such a thing?—and a dead metal device with the icon of a bitten-out-of apple printed on it. !<
There were also other human body parts made out of ancient stone, too: the cracked half of a man's face buried a foot deep, a muscly arm sticking out of the soil. Even a private part, which I snickered at, though Mensim seemed unfazed.
There is something else we start to do. My parents have given me "the talk," and Mensim told me that his parents gave him the Senghavi version of it. And so even as we talk and play in the woods, we experiment—because we are curious, and why should we not be?
A fragment of a memory in the forest; Mensim's raptorial forelimbs are set on my shoulders as his compound eyes look into my primate eyes, and he says, "You cannot tell anyone about this. Anyone. Absolutely no one."
I don't know how, but Priestess Munghazi learned of what we were doing, and now she expresses anger and disgust alike, her wings and antennae wild and rigid. Ghanvati is the same. Mensim and I... We're actually making them reconsider their decision not to tell the Siedi Court about my dad.
A fragment of a memory... I feel like I am in space, stranded aboard a spaceliner that has been hijacked by terrorists, its atmosphere venting amid a backdrop of violence... But I am not, I am in the forest that Mensim and I talked and played in; I am in Mensim's home, terrified as I am yelled at by Ghanvati, whose compassion no longer shines through, accompanied by Priestess Munghazi.
"By the names of the Gods, it's those false, pagan corruptions which humans have named as their religions, that are spouted by your father," Priestess Munghazi spits. I am teary-eyed and snot-nosed from guilt and embarrassment. "How horrid is the link between the state of barbarism and a most revolting and shameful propensity for bizarre and perverted behaviour!"
Then I am in my own family's living room, and the mom I love so dearly yells at me, too, but my father is quieter and only seems disappointed. This must be the first time in my life that I have felt true shame, I think; the kind that leaves you with an emptiness inside. Like the whole point of existing just vanished inside of me.
The worst part is that I cannot even lean on Mom's shoulder, because she is distressed—because she knows what will happen—
"This is all on you, Casimir!" she screeches, tears in her eyes. "All on you!"
I remember telling Priestess Munghazi that 'I'm not dangerous or evil; I'm just a kid,' but now I can't be sure anymore. I can tell I am different in the eyes of my family. They are disgusted by me.
It is my fault, after all, that Priestess Munghazi tells the Siedi Court of my father's evil, barbaric Christian teachings.
The Parimthian soldiers bring my father to the gallows. Their snow-white exoskeletons gleam under a burning sun. They have dressed him in his clerical uniform, and the camera is close enough that I can see his cross necklace.
I have been grounded in my room; still, I have a television to see the live broadcast.
Hanging works for primates and mantids alike. It happens in the Forum of Movvaeti, the venue for public events in our area, where my father is a lesser criminal compared to the native leaders and Senghavi malcontents who have dissented from Colonial Governor Nieve fe Skellth.
He is joined with seven other convicts, three humans and four Senghavi, and their crimes are read to the crowd—blasphemy, paganism, monogamy, witchcraft, seditious libel, insulting the Parimthian Crown, treason against the Parimthian Crown, and refusal to quarter Parimthian soldiers.
Why? None of this feels right. Why should my father be killed because of what he says and believes? Why can't these people be judged with fairness, rather than at the whim of some distant space emperor?
Not only have I been grounded, but I grow cold without my mother's touch. I want to hold someone's hand while watching Dad lose his life, but nobody is there. Mom brings me food, but she doesn't even look at me. Why can't she look at me? Why can't she speak to me? I just want things to be the way they used to be, when Dad would help me practise hitting a ball with a bat on the street.
I watch him turn down a caped, bejewelled priestess of the Siedi faith, who thought she could make my dad accept their Gods before his death. Before a modest crowd of humans and Senghavi alike, all eight of the convicts have their arms and legs bound with rope.
I am begging myself to turn the TV off, but I can't bring myself to. The Senghavi executioner uses some kind of hi-tech display to remove the supports from beneath the convicts' feet. My stomach flips over inside of me, a nausea of shame filling my body.
I can't deny it any longer. This is my fault—this is why my family avoids me—this is why they are disgusted by me—and Dad falls and his head jerks when the noose goes taut.
As he hangs there, I cannot tell for how long he remains alive. My insides are cold. After the broadcast ends, after night falls and I sit in the moonlight spilling faintly through my windows, that is when it all comes out. I sob alone. I scream for Mom to help me and be there for me, but she does not come. Her harsh voice resonates through my memory; this is all on me. I am a disgrace to everyone I love, and that is why they have left me here. Why they avoid me as if I am a disease.
The only thing I want is to see Dad again, but he is gone forever. I curl up on my room floor. What is this? What is this loneliness? This stinging hatred I feel against myself?
No one, human or mantid, will be there for me. I cry until my throat cannot ache any more harshly, until my eyes cannot sting any more painfully, and then I go cold inside, my body shivering in the moonlight. I retreat into my happy memories with Dad until it is too painful to bear.
I wish so dearly I could end it all, to take my own life and join Dad in the heaven that he believed in. There is a belt in my closet that I can use on myself in the way the Siedi Court killed Dad.
But beneath the sickly well of shame, the nausea and crushing humiliation at the stupid antics of Mensim and I, with which Mom's brief gaze pierces me—beneath the weight of knowing that I will never fill the torturous vacuum Dad left, knowing that I am a foul and disgusting son to the mother I so desperately need, that I see no end to the infinite river of anxiety and guilt pouring through the hole left in my heart—beneath my isolation and my longing for human touch—something breaks inside of me.
An emptiness of purpose. There is no point in going on, and I feel nothing, not even the desire to stop living. There is one exception: A hatred of myself, and of the humans I loved as family.
One day, Mom appears in my doorway, and she just stands there. Before, I would've welcomed being offered interaction with her beyond just receiving food, but now I am numb, my eyes all out of tears to cry.
"Pack your things," she says, her voice flat. She still doesn't look at me; the eyes she once said I inherited from Dad, she now shuns. "You're going to a residential school."
Indigenous Residential Schools; that is what Colonial Governor Nieve fe Skellth calls them, I think. They're for human kids who have trouble letting go of their "savage" roots; kids that the normal schools aren't enough to civilise. Schools that show you how to act Senghavi, to think Senghavi, to... be Senghavi.
There was a human kid in normal school whose sister went there, but they said that something had happened to her there; something in that residential school had changed her before she finally returned.
But I feel no fear as I pack my clothes into my bags. Every time I look in my bedroom mirror, a violent feeling rushes to my chest, only to dissipate into the hatred-tinged numbness I have grown so used to.
Finally, the time comes to depart. In the early morning, I am already aboard the autonomous public transport. It pulls out of the cracked street I once played with Dad in, passing by the entrance of Fellye Neighborhood, driving off into the fiery, violet Terran dawn. I see my faded reflection in the window, and my chest jumps with revulsion.
So I look down, fidgeting with my touchpad—then the numbness abruptly leaves, and my tears fall once again.
Forgive me for all the redaction, Doctor Morgthax. While I will not disclose what I wrote, you are correct, as always, about the act of writing. There is some semblance of psychological relief in typing one's sullen inner thoughts onto a touchpad. As if one can be heard without being heard.
By the time I drifted back to reality, my mouth and lips dry from dehydration, the hijackers had patched up the holes punched through the hull by the accidental explosion. Plenty of Senghavi passengers were spilling cerulean blood from beneath their exoskeletal coverings; though they were all alive, they needed medical attention.
Two hundred-something Senghavi civilians aboard this luxury spaceliner, and none had yet died. That stroke of luck offered me a glimmer of hope.
Pavok, the child, was emitting vibrations through the floor in his despair, the smell of rain and lilies becoming evident to me. It is starkly fascinating, the evolutionary dissimilarity between how native Terrans and Senghavi Terrans cry.
Those ships were delivering medical aid and critical provisions to the passengers, Commander Lokprel barked, the neutrino signals that encoded his gruff voice coming out from the intercom. Why did you laser them?
"Stop playing games," Jake snapped wearily into his radio. I recalled that his full name was Jacob Weaver, as Commander Lokprel had mentioned. A drop of blood streaked down his face. "We know what you're up to."
Paranoia will get you nowhere, Jacob. If we don't work with each other, you won't survive. We have detected an explosion aboard the spaceliner. Is anyone dead?
"Not yet," Jake growled. "But Fenni Svim will be if your forces keep approaching!"
Fenni Svim—the Senghavi from the Vellir Veneti Physics Lab, against whose skull Jake had pressed his pistol to halt the CDF's initial approach, hours ago—stiffened in her seat. I had never known the nuclear researcher very well before this barbarous event, but I prayed to the Gods of Siedi (whom I do not really believe in) that she would be okay.
Many of the passengers were still being kept by the windows to deter snipers. They included Pavok, behind whom Khadija stood guard.
"Sorry for attacking you," Jake suddenly said to me, his voice worn-out. "It's like Khadija said. The bugs know that humans are strong when they're united. It's why they try to play us against ourselves, to ally with just some of us, to try to make us hate each other; to hate ourselves. It's how they tore the United States apart. Everything they do... It's to make us ashamed of our species, our own culture, to lose hope in the future. If we were united, Casimir... they'd be terrified of us. And make no mistake—we're uniting again."
"E-even if what you say about mankind is true," I croaked, "Our species would not have settled anywhere but Earth. Our culture and history would still have been negligible and primitive, the richness and complexity of the Senghavi, still greater by many orders of magnitude."
"Casimir, did you go to one of the Indigenous Residential Schools?" Khadija asked.
"Y-yes," I managed, dusting off my formal wear and cleaning my glasses. "I was sent to one as a child. They are for those of us savage natives which conventional education could not sufficiently civilise."
Khadija's eyes softened with compassion, and she gestured to my wrist. "I asked because of that code on your wrist. I've heard about some of the things that happen in those places. The cruelty; the abuse."
I glanced at the abstract identification code tattooed onto my skin, faded with time. I hadn't thought about it in ages; it was but a remnant of my childhood, and I never paid it any attention.
"Residential schooling is necessary and proper," I tell her. "It is similar to human-mantid apartheid in its purpose; it keeps the public safe from savagery. "
"If we get out of this alive, I'm gonna take you with me to Russia," she said, wiping sweat from her brow. "Specifically, Moscow. It's where I lived after the fall of Türkiye. Man controls it, not the Senghavi."
I was already aware that a vast, untamed region named Zvorriu-Sai, located in Earth's northeastern quarter-sphere, is called Russia in simple-speak. A decade ago, Nieve fe Skellth had tried to civilise the hunter-gatherers who lived there, but his troops starved and froze in the snow.
It was with the multitude of planetary habitat fabricators that his army had been using that the native primates of Zvorriu-Sai constructed such cities as Moscow or Saint Petersburg.
"Russian civilization goes back over a millennium," Khadija explained. "I don't give a fuck about what the Senghavi have built on this planet; Russian architecture is my favourite, hands down. Anyway, it's the most stable and self-sufficient of the ten countries we've got left. Hard to invade, you know? It's seen better days, but the cities are nice, the economy is good. I think you'll find it's a hell of a lot less 'savage' than whatever the fuck the Parimthian Empire is doing."
To corroborate her claims, she showed me a photo from the gallery of her cracked, dusty touchpad. Before a busy canal, the waters tinted orange by a rising sun, a more relaxed version of her smiled into the camera alongside some human of the phenotype I had seen in the video of Tokyo. Looming over them was an intricate, palatial structure topped with colourful, onion-shaped domes.
"How... quaint," I replied, unsure of what to say, though it ignited dry laughter in Khadija.
"Looks like we got a communiqué from the UN," another hijacker announced, his mask still covering his face. I couldn't place his accent at all. He held up his own touchpad, displaying photos of the Colonial Governor herself—Perellanth fe Sumur—flanked by armed UN military personnel. They were clad in urban camouflage that was marred with blood. The black, plant-like extraterrestrial gazed defeatedly in the sterile lighting.
The UN had captured her! The Crown's decision to appoint a Vire as the leader of a Senghavi colony had been no small event. I was certain that after all the talk of Senghavi Terran independence, then followed by the Colonial Governor's capture, His Imperial Majesty regretted his progressivist decision.
"We... We did it!" Jake exclaimed, his voice disbelieving. "We took down Perellanth!"
You achieved nothing, Commander Lokprel retorted over the intercom. Not beyond the promotion of Benghoviu fe Prim to Acting Colonial Governor. If you kill Governor Sumur, Governor Benghoviu will become the permanent Colonial Governor as per the chain of command, and he will carry on the fine work of his predecessor.
Jake seemed to consider that situation a fair one, and he nodded to himself subtly. "Okay, sure. But if you do nothing, we'll still kill our first hostage."
What I can promise you is that Delegate Essintsya fe Baryn will submit an Act to the Forum of Delegates to recognize the sovereignty of the UN. It will be deliberated over for months, but it is your only realistic option. In return, we demand that you allow the passengers injured by one of your explosives to board CDF medical ships.
I recalled that the Forum of Delegates had voted Benghoviu fe Prim as Vice Colonial Governor just a year ago. And before even that, the Senghavi who lived on Vennec—my home continent on Earth—had popularly elected the ever-prudent Essintsya fe Baryn to the Forum. She was quite the economic liberal, as her sort was called.
Delegate Baryn's statements on the social contract between a people and their government, as well as her rejection that the Parimthian Crown ruled by divine right, had resonated deeply with me.
Jake's eyes hardened, and he turned his radio back on. "I said no games!"
There are no games here, Jacob! We only aim to preserve as much sapient life as possible. And you are out of options.
The hijacker who had shown Colonial Governor Sumur's prison photo gave Jake a withering look. "We're dragging this on, man. I don't want anyone to die."
"Don't talk to me about death, Ramiro. Not after what happened in the US."
The so-called United States of America... called Gholo Vieda in Parimthian. That region was Nieve fe Skellth's last successful conquest before he attempted to take on the vast, snowy expanses of Zvorriu-Sai. I wondered if, like Khadija's experience in Türkiye in the Niethvahi region, Jake had witnessed firsthand the cultural assimilation and political integration of Gholo Vieda into the rest of Parimthian Earth.
The conquest of Gholo Vieda and Niethvahi were the great accomplishments of Perellanth's predecessor, of course; but, in my opinion, the devotion of the (now captured) Perellanth to the causes of liberty, reason, equality, and sapientism far outshadowed anything that Nieve had done. I am certain, however, that the Parimthian Crown disagrees.
In any case, my faith in CDF Commander Lokprel loth Fonvie had not risen. Perhaps that was a good thing; otherwise, I might have regretted betraying the knowledge of antimatter research in order to elicit a more competent Parimthian intervention.
More security forces took up positions around the spaceliner, each ship split sharply into sunlight and shadow amid the black of space. The hijacker called Ramiro pointed to a series of smaller craft, which seemed to be pulling away from the luxury spaceliner. Escape pods!
"Hostages are falling through our fingers," Ramiro said. "We need to do something."
"Go to the rear," Khadija ordered. "Stop anyone else from sneaking out!"
Jake's radio crackled with the voice of someone in the cockpit. We've intercepted a neutrino transmission from the new guy, Benghoviu fe Prim. He's calling for some kind of emergency council at the highest levels in the Parimthian Empire.
I scoffed internally. The Crown would intervene for the sake of investigating all this talk of antimatter, whose alluring utility had hitherto been confined to theory and fiction. But it was doubtful that His Imperial Majesty would agree to an emergency council for the sake of his colonists' security and well-being. As (relatively) progressivist as he was in policy, he was still very much a punitive emperor, not a rewarding one.
"I told the commander to stop advancing—dammit!" Jake spat. "We're only letting medical craft get any closer. Fire at the corvettes!"
Affirmative, his radio crackled. Targets in sight.
The spaceliner's anti-collision lasers flashed against several faraway spacecraft. A succession of oxygen-fueled fires, each lasting for a [~split-second] against the vacuum of space, flared in the distance. Even so, the growing array of naval craft began to close in upon us again, surrounding the spaceliner in every dimension.
Switching again to the neutrino-connected channel, Jake gave a disgusted scowl. "Are you deaf, Commander? If your people keep getting closer, the deal is off!"
The more you fire, the closer we will get, Lokprel said. We are just making sure it is safe for the medical craft. As long as you refrain from harming them, we will not hurt you.
The hijacker in the cockpit radioed to Jake again, her voice sounding more alarmed.
We're picking up a massive object on our scanners. It's headed our way.
"How massive are we talking?" Jake asked.
It's... some kind of warship, I think. Over a hundred times our size.
"You're joking, right?"
"A Parimthian spacecraft carrier," murmured a soft, whimpery voice.
It was Fenni Svim again, her praying raptorial forelimbs tucked close in fear.
"The Imperial Parimthian Navy?" I asked. "They're really here?"
"Y-you shouldn't act surprised," Fenni said. "I know you were speaking to someone on the P-Parimthian side. You leaked our greatest secret, Casimir."
"R-right."
"What's she talking about, dude?" Khadija asked. Suspicion of betrayal lingered in her dark eyes. She had believed the lie that I was only calling a loved one when I contacted Mensim, >! who is at present an agent of Parimth!<; she had trusted me, and defended me against Jake's wrath.
I didn't answer. The very reason we needed antimatter was that the colonists' outerspace spanned but a meagre few millionths of the Parimthian Empire's total volume. I did not know what exactly a spacecraft carrier one hundred times the size of our spaceliner could do for the hostages, but it would be far more competent than the comparatively flimsy Colonial Defence Force.
Finally, after so many years of strategic modesty in the administration of the Crown's distant colony, of his Earth, as His Imperial Majesty suffered expense upon expense in countering the Imperium of Orion... Parimth had sent a warship of the Imperial Parimthian Navy, here in full force!
There was no need to inquire as to its distance; I could see it through my window. It was far enough that I could view the whole of its great form. Senghavi architecture, of course, is usually round, white, and glassy, traced with glowing accents; however, the imperial warship was boxy and shadowy black, visible only by the silhouette that it carved into the beaming sun.
Already, dozens of smaller craft—operated by some of the finest Senghavi pilots in the Milky Way—began spilling out from the spacecraft carrier, moving in the shadow of their gargantuan mothership. As even the hostage passengers became aware of its presence, the muted chatter and whimpering, which had been ambient across the aisles of the spaceliner, finally ceased.
Because of me, all of us—colonists and savages alike—were, for the first time in a decade, going to face a military intervention by Parimth itself.

The System was a scam, period.
I had leveled up five whole times after our fight against the Wendigo and I had not received any kind of reward. Sure, my mana pool had grown a little bit and my [Mana Exhaustion] had been slowly receding, but other than that I wasn’t getting stronger, faster or more agile. I didn’t even have a measly new skill to show for it.
“What a scam, I want a refund.” I muttered.
“I already told you, there was only a small chance for the Wendigo to have an elemental crystal. You only start seeing stuff like that after level fifty.” Elincia huffed in front of me. The mountainous path was steep but at least we had left the forest behind. Elincia had told me that Farcrest was just beyond the mountain range.
“People should get shit after leveling up five damn times!” I angrily said as if Elincia was somehow responsible for the shitty progression system.
The white haired suddenly stopped and turned around. For an instant I thought she was going to scold me but then, out of nowhere, she put her hands on my shoulders and locked her eyes into mine. I tried to control my blush with little success and hoped she would attribute it to the arduous hike.
“I’m sorry to break this down to you, Robert Clarke, but support classes don’t get crap from the System.” Elincia said with a solemn tone just to smile a moment later. “In any case, you should be happy because your mana pool is so huge. Scholars are known for having lots of mana but, dude, you are on another level.”
One thing was sure, I wasn’t getting used to receiving compliments any time soon.
[Awareness]: You are absolutely correct.
I ignored the System prompt. At least I was getting very good at doing that.
“The amount of mana you need to materialize a [Mana Blade] without a skill is ridiculous. Are you sure you are a low level Scholar?” Elincia asked as we resumed the march. As we came near the edge of the Farlands, she grew more relaxed.
There haven't been any signs of monsters since the previous night.
“You still don’t believe in me?” I replied.
“At this point you could say you are the son of a Fire Dragon and a virginal maiden and I’d believe you.” Elincia shrugged her shoulders. “It might be a long shot but, have you ever been in a System Shrine?”
As good a liar as I was, I couldn’t just bullshit my way out of such a direct question. Elincia was too keen for that. A System Shrine sounded like basic knowledge.
“Haven’t heard about that in my life.” I replied.
Elincia stopped for a second and gave me one of her looks of disbelief that made me feel like a kid without his homework. I wondered if she had practiced that expression. After all, she had five stacks of [Favorite Teacher], she might as well have experience publicly humiliating kids.
“You don’t have System Shrines in the City of Light?” Elincia asked in disbelief.
I just shrugged my shoulders to avoid giving an answer. Also, there was the fact that the hike was taking a toll on my lungs. I didn’t know how Elincia could sustain a conversation. If I knew I was going to get transported to a magical world, I would’ve exercised more back on Earth.
“The System blocks certain titles from low level individuals.” Elincia started explaining. “Let’s say a Lv.1 Soldier survives the scuffle against a flock of Fire Dragons and gets the [Dragon Killer] title which gives fire resistance. There is a high chance the System withholds the title from the Soldier on the basis that [Dragon Killer] is an overpowered title for a mere Lv.1.”
I nodded. It made sense the System had a method to prevent power leveling, if only to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Earth would be plunged into chaos very quickly if suddenly a bunch of people with godly powers appeared out of nowhere.
“With the help of a System Shrine and a competent System Zealot the Soldier could unlock [Dragon Killer] even without the required level.” Elincia finished with her explanation. “Maybe you are benefiting from a hidden title.”
“Maybe,” I replied.
I couldn’t imagine having any useful titles considering how ordinary my life has been before arriving in the Farlands. When I was in college, I was able to comfortably outdrink all my group of friends, but then I lost that skill just after graduating. And there was the fact my only title at level one was [Lonely Boy] so my hopes of having a nice hidden title weren’t particularly high.
“Does Farcrest have a System Shrine?” I asked.
My question prompted a dry laugh from Elincia.
“Don’t get your hopes too high. Farcrest is a shithole.” She warned me as we climbed a rocky path between the two mountain ranges that separated the Farlands from the Kingdom of Ebros. We were almost there.
“Why is there a town so close to the Farlands anyway?” I asked.
Elincia lent me her hand and helped me climb a step boulder.
“To prevent monsters from pouring into the Kingdom. Think of Farcrest as a cork.” Elincia pulled me up the boulder.
Suddenly, we were on top of the path between two mountain ranges. I glanced down the valley ahead expecting to see a handful of rustic cabins scattered across a modest patch of farmland with a rotten palisade and a muddy road; however, Farcrest was a town in its own right. It was located on the top of a soft hill, surrounded by a high stone wall with several watchtowers. An impressive church made of the same dark stone rose above the thatched rooftops and, on the highest part of the hill, a great hall, half palace, half fortress, dominated the valley.
“Doesn’t look like a shithole to me.” I said as we started the descent from the other side of the hill. It looked like a picturesque European medieval town.
“You’ll see.” Elincia replied, with a hopeless sigh.
About two hours later, we reached the city outskirts. The main road was neglected and the farmland’s irrigation canals blocked by debris. As we approached the city, the picture became even more bleak. I didn’t need [Awareness] to tell me the crops were sickly and weak. Most of the farmers were older men and women that moved slowly among the plots of land.
“Where are the young people?” I asked, discarding the idea of a disease. If there was a plague ravaging Farcrest, then there wouldn’t be old people working on the fields.
“They are in the eastern frontier, fighting the King’s wars.” Elincia replied dryly.
I recalled Elincia telling me there was a shortage of alchemical ingredients due to a war in the western frontier.
“War against who?” I asked. A war-torn country might not be too welcoming to strangers like me.
“Against the Farlands. The king is obsessed with expanding the kingdom’s territory and uncharted lands and their resources.” Elincia sighed. “It’s a meat grinder. A bunch of low level kids trying to push deeper and deeper into monster territory while the real warriors are protecting the imperial capital and the frontiers.”
[Awareness] sent me down a stream of reasoning. Numbers and equipment were the basis of any military force back on Earth. However, in this world, a single individual with a powerful class and a high level could potentially be a one man army.
“What about power leveling the new recruits? You know, pairing them with a bunch of high level people and fighting monsters together?” I asked again.
“You might be a genius, Robert Clarke! How had no one thought of that before?” Elincia replied as she mindlessly drummed her lips in a gesture I recognized as deep concentration.
“Really?”
“You really think Kings, Scholars, and Generals didn’t think about powerleveling new recruits? The System doesn’t allow that.” A tired smile was drawn on Elincia’s face.
Seeing Elincia’s expression, I decided to drop the topic about the war. I wondered how many of her friends and acquaintances have gone to the frontline to never be heard of again. The Farlands were a dangerous place and the King’s troops lacked the advantage of firearms like me.
“Let’s go to my place.” Elincia said as we approached the city walls. “You should make yourself presentable before going to the Great Hall for that transit permit, and we have to appraise the herbs.”
It didn’t take a genius to realize Elincia was desperate for alchemical materials, otherwise she wouldn’t invite a stranger like me to her home. Or maybe there was a really charitable soul beneath the layers of mistrust and suspicion. The aftermath of the combat against the Wendigo had brought us a lot closer.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” I replied wondering if I was going to meet Elincia’s kid. Or her partner.
Farcrest was only a few hundred meters away. Up close, the black stone wall was taller and sturdier than I initially thought. Then I remembered they weren’t built to resist medieval armies but the assault of skills and magic spells. The double wooden gate was wide open but nobody bothered to stop us or ask about the business that brought us to the city.
As we passed through the hole in the wall, I spied into a guardhouse. I saw young men and women playing cards and drinking booze. Well-fed and well-dressed troops loyal to the Marquis, I assumed. Up close, Farcrest was further away from the bucolic city and dangerously close to a feudal dystopia.
Elincia and I walked along the wall towards the northern district. As we progressed through the city, houses became more and more neglected to the point it seemed outright abandoned to me. Kids ran barefoot in the street, fetid puddles adorned the alleys, and most of the stores were closed. Farcrest was a ghost town.
“How long has there been war?” I asked.
“Seven years now?” Elincia replied. “We are close.”
After five more minutes of meandering through alleys, we emerged in front of a great manor made of stained white walls and washed out blue shingles. For a moment I was out of words. Was Elincia the heir of a noble family fallen from grace? Her dignified appearance and beautiful features made me think so, however, she was a bit too wild to be a noblewoman.
The manor was old. The white painting of the front was peeling away and water stains plagued the nooks and crannies of the structure. A low stone wall marked the perimeter and a quick glance revealed it had served in the past as the foundation for an iron fence long gone. The only section of the outer wall that had survived the decay of the city was the iron gate.
Elincia opened it and we entered the front yard. I was about to ask a hundred questions when the front door slammed open and a stampede of small kids came to meet us. I managed to count at least a dozen before they reached us. Elincia greeted them with arms open as the little ones burst into tears at the first sight of the woman.
I froze. Not all of them were human.
There were two small snakefolk kids with bright yellow eyes. The blue-scaled snake-kid was dressed in a ragged brown dress while the green-scaled one had an oversized white shirt and frayed pants. At the end of the retinue, somewhat late to the reception, appeared a small winged girl with a hesitant gait. Her beautiful golden feathers contrasted with the old pillowcase she used as a dress.
Before I could react, both of the snake-kids jumped into my arms, crying a river of tears. Surprisingly enough, they were warm to the touch. I tried to exchange a glance with Elincia but she was busy trying to calm a handful of small kids on her own.
How many kids Elincia had?
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Discord Royal Road

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I rouse from my slumber as piercing rays of light shine across my metallic face. Rising to a sitting position I find myself still surrounded by my drones who remain ever vigilant. Now fully aware of my surroundings I opened the door to the room that I had stayed the night in and began moving down the road with my scorpions following close behind.
———
Arriving at the Outpost around noon I find that the drones that I had sent ahead of me have already arrived and have been helping out around the compound. The hornets have joined the veterans from the previous battles and have chosen their sniper positions. The two squads of new hounds have decided to split apart and are currently patrolling the area while the two remaining battle tested hounds acted as the alphas of their respective squads.
Letting my scorpions loose into the swarm I make my way over to my group of spiders, not including the ones deployed here from the transport moose. Opening up the build menu I order them to start making this outpost a more functioning forward operating base by constructing some basic drone production. As they begin scurrying around gathering materials for the project I start gathering up the current garrison to form up in front of me.
It takes a few minutes but they all eventually get to their positions. Looking upon the strike group I count two squads of six hounds each, a sniper team of five hornets, a triplet of scorpions, a few scout groups of rats, and a support team of three mooses and the spiders who are riding on them. Satisfied with the amount of drones at my disposal I opened up my territorial map.
My eyes drift around the map before landing on another of MAI's Outposts which is due north and about a day's worth of travel from my current position. My scouts have only done a few brief sweeps of the area due to its distant nature but from what they have seen, the Outpost is under defended which means it should be easy pickings. The outpost, from what my scouts could see, is located inside of a series of warehouses surrounded by a large fence. Oddly enough there was an abnormally large amount of holes around the fence which completely negates the effectiveness of it.
Anyways after this outpost is taken there would only be one more and the MAI's main base which are quite close to each other. Likely because of the proximity of the last outpost and the main base, from what my scouts have been able to glean, the outpost is heavily defended with a multitude of hornets, crabs, and scorpions. I don't think I can handle that quite yet.
Taking down my map projection I start making my way over to the far off outpost with my small army of drones following close behind.
———
My drones and I have been marching for about 6 hours and dusk is soon to hit. The remaining sunlight is able to light up the path enough to where I have a slight difficulty seeing in any of the shaded areas but it was manageable. As we continue moving, I notice that the buildings around me slowly start to change from being a mix of residential and commercial buildings into most of the buildings being under construction with scaffolding scattered all around.
I idly ponder on what these buildings were going to be made into before I start feeling a light rumble. Looking around for the source, I only find more unfinished buildings and stacks of more scaffolding. The rubbing slowly becomes louder and louder before it sounds like it is right on top of me and my drones.
Wait! On top!
"Everyone scatter." I yell out urgently to my drones while running over to some nearby buildings. Many of my drones are able to get a decent distance away from each other but for some it was not enough as three something shoots out from the ground and two of them manage to slam right onto some of my hounds. The sounds of drills digging through the lowly armored sides of my hounds fills the area.
My hornets were the first to react as they fired their armaments which managed to graze the front most ambushing drones and piercing another in the chest. My scorpions also charge up and fire on the enemy with three bright blue beams, stunning the two drones in the back. Last of the group to respond to the sudden attack, my hounds rush to their injured comrades and all rush towards the immobilized enemy.
As all my drones are doing this, I move forward to some cover near the enemy so I may get a better look, which I do get. The drones had sleek bodies and a spiral drill which encompassed most of their face. On their arms were two curved plates that looked like old medieval shields that were split in half. Also their legs were little stumps that were barely two inches tall which would have made them kind of cute if they were not trying to kill us. Hmm. They kind of remind me of moles if they decided their face was the best of their limbs for digging. As I observe the new drones, my hounds have closed the distance and the enemy mole drone uses its large shield legs as a barrier in front of itself.
My hounds, upon reaching the mole, form into a semi circle and start to move in to encompass the drone. The mole, realizing that it is alone, attempts to break out of the closing in line of hounds by charging straight into the left end of the formation. It moves with surprising speed, using its frontal claws to help volt the mole above the hounds that were about to champ down on its neck. As the mole lands it twists around and grabs onto one of the hounds with its claws and uses its drill to dig deep into the poor drone's cranium. As my hound falls limp in the moles claws, the rest of my hounds pounce on the offending mole and begin ripping it to ribbons.
While they do that my hornets have rearmed and now that the other moles are still stunned they fire on them. This time all of their spikes land their mark and hit the moles all over. One of the moles immediately falls over, dead, but the other mole regains its control and revs up its drill face and starts to burrow into the ground. One squad of hounds, realizing that it is trying to escape, breaks off from the main group and grabs onto the exposed legs of the mole and, with the help of one of the scorpion's claws, pulls it out of its escape hole and they start to ravage the mole.
I walk out from where I was hiding, as well as my spiders who immediately begin repairs on the injured, towards the impaled corpse of one of the moles and pop up the description description.
"The Deep Magma Tunneler or the DMT is a mining drone meant to dig to the deepest part of the mines where most other drones cannot reach due to the cramped spaces and excessive heat. Thus they are smaller than most driller drones and are decently heat resistant. They also are equipped with portable shields to help with protecting the less armored areas of the chassis from collapsing tunnel debris or other such hazards. Can be constructed at a Medium Drone Works."
"Nice, now I have something to mine out the ores in the outpost."
As I close the description I find that my hound drones are finished with enacting their vengeance and my spiders would need a bit of time before they could finish patching up the injured. I set my hornets to begin flying around to ensure no one sneaks in and ambushes my drones again. Ordering my ground based drones to protect me, I hop out of my vessel and start the usual check ups on the home base and the outpost.
As I look around I notice that my territory is woefully under defended when I leave. Seeing as I don't have anything else to do, I decided that tonight I would change that.
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